Drizzle
by Foxy'sGirl
Summary: A collection of drabbles and one-shots in the Chasing Thunderstorms universe, not necessarily in order. Smut included.
1. The Final Frontier

**This Chasing based drabble was requested on tumblr by oh-you-pretty-things, because she's a genius. **

**Prompt: Hullo, friend. Could you please, vey kindly, write a Chasing smut in which Henry takes Astrid to a Trekkie convention and hilarity ensues? Much love, darling.**

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The Final Frontier

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"You really should have left your ring at home," Hiccup wraps his arm around Astrid's shoulder and kisses the back of her neck, holding his breath against the still pungent hairspray smell.

"Why is that?" She looks at the gold band, diamond somehow still bright in the dim room. It clinks against the side of her cup and she takes another sip of the deep red liquid inside, smacking her lips. "This Stickon wine packs a punch."

"It's _Klingon_ blood wine," he corrects her, shaking his head and resting his forehead against the top of her head.

"Klingon sounds like a kind of detergent."

"And your ring is entirely out of sync with Yar's character, that's why you should have left it at home."

"I'm not going to risk losing it because of some costume, Hiccup." She turns to face him and he bites back a smile at the all too familiar mischievous glint in her slightly glazed eyes. Maybe she's had enough blood wine. "Or should I call you Commander?"

"Yes, you should," he puffs out slightly and she laughs, wrapping an arm around his lower back and grimacing at the rub of polyester. "You can't try and be serious about this? Because I could have come with Fishlegs—"

"No, I'm glad I came with you," she forces her face serious and he softens, leaning down and kissing the top of her head. "I'm sorry if I'm not taking my costume seriously. What does Yar act like, what should I be doing?"

"Come on, you know Yar. She's the one who grew up on the planet with all the gangs and she fought her way into Starfleet. So just be…hostile and tough and have a heart of gold behind a callus exterior. Normal Astrid stuff."

"So this isn't a costume," she looks down at the still stiff yellow and black ensemble that Hiccup got in the mail the week before, "they're just sort of itchy pajamas?"

"If you think you're going to get any sleep in that, you're kidding yourself." He gives her a grin that's not quite Hiccup, something sillier and brasher and magnified by the wine. She laughs.

"Don't _laugh_," he rests stern hands on her shoulders and glares at a Klingon who elbows him in the back on the way through the packed hotel hallway, "that was me being in character."

"Smarmy, bearded egotist?" She reaches up and runs her hands through the still new scruff along his jaw, neatly trimmed and impossibly soft.

"Pretty much."

"Ok, so, what do you still want to do?" She drains her cup of blood wine and leans over to drop it into the overflowing trashcan beside them. "We saw Captain Picard, we saw Worf, we had blood wine, I wore this costume. Anything else on your checklist?"

"Why? Are you getting tired?" He looks towards her watch, which she did leave at home and pulls his phone out of his pocket to check the time. "It's one, I can walk you back to the room if you want."

"So you want me to go away so you can talk nerdy? If that's the plan, I'd rather stay with the wine thank you very much."

"No, I'm not leaving you alone with the nerds, you're the best Yar I've seen all day. That's a dangerous game," he pulls her into his chest.

"Is this…canon?" She searches for the word and he nods, giving her a small smile. She spent all of last weekend listening to him be excited, and the fact that she retained even a tiny bit of that is overwhelmingly flattering. "Did Commander Riker and Yar ever get together?"

"No, but I don't think he would have turned her down…"

She punches his arm and he frowns. "In character but not nice."

"So Riker is whiny too?"

"Back to the checklist. I think we did everything I really wanted to do," he frowns and glances down the hallway behind him and Astrid pops onto her tip toes to look over his shoulder.

"What are you looking at?"

"I was…I'm just wondering if the podiums are still in the conference room. Because that's sort of the bridge of the hotel, if you know what I mean."

"Is that a sexual thing?" She rests her chin on his shoulder and hugs him.

"No."

"Let's go see if they're still there. What's the harm?" She grabs his hand and starts leading him down the hallway.

"The conference rooms are probably locked," but he doesn't stall her, instead wrapping his arm around her shoulders and pulling her into his side as they weave around a clan of Ferengi huddled against the wall.

"Someone's excited."

"Commander Riker, report to the bridge," Hiccup announces in an eerily accurate British accent, laughing as he tugs her around a corner into the wide hallway where the conferences were earlier.

"Shhh, I don't think we're supposed to be back here," she laughs and leans back against the wall in the nook of the door, watching him jiggle the handle. He looks over at her, surprised and grinning.

"It's unlocked," he pushes the door open and looks around the hallway before grabbing her hand and dragging her into the room after him, nearly tripping over a displaced banquet chair in the middle of an aisle. "The podiums are still here," he lets go of her hand and rushes up onto stage, standing behind the one in the middle and putting on a ludicrously serious expression in the dim light. "Engage."

"You're a dork."

"Ask me questions." He grins and drums his hands against the top of the podium.

"What kind of questions?"

"I don't know. I just feel like I should be interviewed."

"Now that Captain Picard is dead, Commander Riker, what are your plans with the Enterprise?" She asks, walking around the edge of the stage and leaning against the podium next to his.

"Does Picard have to be dead?"

"Why else would you be standing in his place?"

"Maybe I forced him to take a vacation or something," he shrugs and taps on the microphone like he's pretending it's on.

"Come on _Barclay_, that's the lamest plotline ever."

He wants to tell her that he's not making it up, that one of the later seasons had a legitimate plot arc involving archeology and Picard avoiding a forced vacation, but the teasing jibe stops him in his tracks.

"Did you just call me Barclay?"

"Should I have called you Broccoli?" She grins and steps over to him, reaching up and sweeping his hair away from his forehead. He rests his hands on her waist and grins, ducking down and kissing her briefly. Her hand lands on the back of his neck and he's glad she's wearing the ring, glad he can still feel it, comparatively cool against his nape.

"You paid attention," he whispers against her lips and she pulls back just far enough to glare at him.

"You wanted me to pay attention."

"Still. Thanks, I owe you something ridiculous." He rubs her nose across hers and she laughs, tugging him down and kissing him again, tongue slipping briefly between his lips.

"Commander Riker report to the bridge," she raises her eyebrows and starts kissing his neck, smooth and shaven beneath the line of his beard. His hands twitch against her back and he bites his lip as she sucks on his earlobe, nibbling down the side of his neck. Her hands untuck his shirt before he can say anything, sliding underneath and tracing the line of his spine.

"Are you saying...Is this a sexual thing?" He repeats her question and she laughs, squeezing his butt with both hands.

"Little bit," she laughs, reaching around to cup his crotch. "But you seem to know that already."

"Really?" He kisses her, harder and longer and more involved, his hands starting to search over her clothes. "You're going to have sex with me on Picard's podium?"

"I don't think we'll both fit on the podium," she laughs, unfastening his pants and reaching down to pull him out of his underwear and start pumping slowly. He groans against the side of her face, hot breath licking at the sprayed crisp fringe against her forehead.

"Over the podium."

"That could work," she looks behind them, assessing the height and Hiccup grabs her hips, firm and urgent.

"It wasn't a suggestion," he turns her around and holds her against him, running his hand down her side before reaching around to unbutton her pants, pushing them down over her hips and pulling her back against him. She laughs and braces her elbows on the podium, looking back at him over her shoulder.

"Is this in character?"

"Of course not," he shakes his head and bends over her, kissing her cheek and sneaking one hand between her legs, tracing lines on her inner thighs and capturing her moan with an urgent kiss. He swipes a finger across her and grins, kissing the side of her neck again before standing back to line himself up, gripping her hip and urging her up onto her tiptoes.

"Are you going to do it?" She glares back over her shoulder and he relishes in the way her eyes flutter shut as he pushes in, biting his lip. She nods and bucks back against him, knuckles going white as she grips the edges of the podium, back arching when he starts to move.

"Quiet, alright?" He reminds her, both hands on her hips as he finds his rhythm, struggling to keep his eyes open as she twitches around him, warm and welcoming and wonderful.

"You are…mmm, cocky tonight." She stutters over the words and it makes it hard to hold back. He tugs her back against him and she cries out, adjusting her grip and groaning into the wood. "Stop teasing me."

"M'not," he speeds up anyway, fingers digging into the sides of her hips as she starts to shake, back of her neck flushing bright red. She reaches down and starts touching herself, fingers glancing across him almost flirtatiously, and he can't hold it together anymore, groaning and surging into her, thrusts falling erratic.

She falls apart with a stifled cry into her arm, clamping around him and dragging him with her, his final thrust hard enough to scoot the podium a squeaky inch towards the edge of the stage. Astrid laughs when he pulls out, bright and grinning over her shoulder. She kisses him, somehow tasting more like blood wine than a minute before and steps away to pull up her pants, tucking her shirt back in.

He looks down at their uniforms and around the empty room and laughs himself. "Well Lieutenant. I believe we just made fanfiction."

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**This was so much fun. And this might be ridiculous, but I'm sort of anticipating a few more chasing drabble requests over on tumblr (tysonrunningfox…come find me), and I figured I'd start a new story to stash them all together. **


	2. Talking Him Down

**And it happened. Someone asked for parenthood. I really like how it came out too.**

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"I didn't know such a tiny thing could be so loud," Hiccup marvels, bouncing the red-faced, screaming infant in his arms, amazed.

"You say that like it's a _good_ thing," Astrid stops pacing for a second, tugging on her half undone braid and looking at him with wide, hopeful eyes. "Can you make it stop?"

"It? That's not a very nice way to talk about him."

"Not him. It. The screaming, I'm going crazy."

"It's not that bad," he bounces the baby a little more, cradling the tiny bundle to his chest and cooing under his breath. Spike heaves to her feet and paces across the room towards Astrid, leaning against her master's feet and whining. Toothless groans from his roost at the mat by the patio door, looking meaningfully at the yard. "He's obviously just upset about something. Is he hungry?"

"He won't eat!" Astrid stomps one bare foot on the floor and the baby cries louder, throat hoarse. Their neighbors probably hate them. It's ok, Astrid hates their neighbors anyway. Vegetarian barbecues, what kind of crazies are they? "I changed his diaper, and he's dry and I gave him a bath and I keep trying to feed him but he's not interested."

"What's wrong little guy?"

"He doesn't understand you," she stomps again, running her fingers through greasy hair and blinking back searing hot tears. This is pathetic. Hiccup is still wearing his jacket and shoe, dripping melting snow onto the carpet.

"It's the tone that matters."

"You sound like your father," she sneers at him, clapping a hand over her eyes and sighing at the quiet dark. "I called him earlier, and I swear you were an angel baby or something. He said you never cried for this long."

"He didn't really stick around for the crying I don't think."

"He said your mom had some trick?" She slumps against the wall, looking hopefully at the couch. "Maybe you know the trick? Somehow?"

"Yeah, because I totally remember what my mom did to calm me down when I was an _infant_, Astrid."

"The sarcasm isn't helpful right now, Hiccup."

"Momma is in a horrible mood, little guy. Why don't you let her get some sleep before she bites my head off?"

"Really charming. Getting him to take sides against me already." Astrid scoffs and gives up entirely, flopping down on the couch and tugging the pillow over her head and holding it there.

"We aren't taking sides," he insists, shushing the baby gently and rocking from foot to foot. "Right? We love momma and want her to get some sleep. Because we like living. You're just shouting about loving life, aren't you Neil? It's just because you're so happy."

The screaming quiets to fussing and Astrid visibly relaxes, feet tangling aimlessly in the blanket strewn across the couch. "There we go. That's a little better. You only need to bring this down to a dull roar and I'm sure she'll conk right out. You've really tired her out, thanks for that."

"Shut _up_," Astrid groans from the couch, blindly reaching back and tugging the blanket over her shoulders, curling into a ball. "Just shut up."

"There we go, son. This is something to know about your mother, she's at her most hostile the moment before she falls asleep. Or kisses you. But I don't think that'll be your problem, there will be no Oedipus complexes born in this house."

Neil gurgles, the start of a laugh that's not quite here yet and Hiccup chuckles, raising the baby and kissing his smooth, pink forehead. "That's better." He glances at Astrid on the couch, still halfway under the pillow and starting to snore softly. "Let's let her sleep, ok bud? Why don't we go look at the yard with uncle Toothless. You like uncle Toothless, don't you?"

He checks one last time to make sure that Astrid is asleep before ducking down and letting the wolf sniff the baby's face, laughing as a long, pink tongue peeks out for a taste. Neil's spit dribbles down his tiny chin, the start of a smile.

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**God this is cute. I'm dead. So cute. **


	3. Puppies

**Y'all wanted puppies. Apparently Toothless did too. **

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When the puppies are around six weeks old, their mysterious renegade father becomes obvious. They're too big for huskies already, and too rangy, chubby and clumsy on snowshoe paws.

Hiccup isn't so much mowing the lawn as examining the lawnmower when his neighbor brings them and their dainty, curly tailed mother over, shrieking before she crosses the property line.

"Soiled her! Soiled her!" The woman, Ms. Belial as he's seen on her mailbox, stomps onto his lawn, sending frenzied chunks of sod flying behind her high heeled shoes as four little puffballs run ahead of her, tripping over the tall grass. "Your wild animal soiled my Princess! And she was supposed to compete at the AKC show two weeks ago!"

"Uh, what are you talking about?" Hiccup neatly dodges Toothless as he dashes down from the patio, wagging over to the pretty little husky and bringing on a whole new round of shrieking from the neighbor.

"Get this thing away from her!" Ms. Belial shrinks away from Toothless even as she gives her order and the wolf sits down, cocking his head at the loud sound. The four puppies run back to their mom and Toothless leans down to sniff them, looking over at Hiccup, alarmed.

"Ma'am can you just calm down?" Hiccup ducks forward and offers his hand to the new dog, laughing when one of the puppies tries to jump up and nip at his fingers.

"Your _wolf_ must have come over the back fence. This is a nice neighborhood, these fences aren't built for dangerous beasts—oh! Another one?" She stumbles back towards the sidewalk and Hiccup looks over his shoulder to see Astrid and Spike on the patio.

Astrid glares at the yelling woman for a moment, flawless with pencil smeared across her face from studying. Then she sees the puppies, frolicking on the lawn and her mouth falls open before she trots down the front stairs barefoot, falling to her knees and laughing as they bound over her lap.

"Hiccup? Why are there puppies?" She asks him, too serious as she scoops one of the largest puffballs up to her chest and hugs it almost absently, her other arm falling around Spike's broad neck.

"Dangerous. Your dangerous _unfixed_ dog jumped my fence and soiled my precious little Princess."

"My unfixed dog?" Hiccup bristles, and both Toothless _and_ Princess sit beside his heels. "Unless this is a miracle, your dog isn't fixed either."

"Well—"

"Why isn't she fixed?" He asks, leaning down to scratch behind the husky's petite ears. Astrid squeals behind him and he vows to repeat the downright ridiculous sound to her later.

"I was going to breed her." Ms. Belial crosses her arms and sticks her nose impossible further up.

"Well, you bred her." Hiccup's resolve breaks as one of the puppies jumps at his feet, clawing at his pants. The woman is shrieking again but he ignores her, scooping up the fluffy, squirming thing and laughing as it bites his hand.

Astrid steps up beside him, holding another one of the puppies and bumping her shoulder against his. He doesn't need to look at her to take the suggestion, "We—Look, I'm sorry about my wolf." The woman stops screaming. "We'll take care of adopting out the puppies, alright? They can just stay here with their dad and we'll find them homes."

Astrid hooks her arm through his and nods, curling the squirming puppy closer to her side, "And their new surrogate mama."

Spike grumbles in assent and lays down, licking a puppy that lays on her front paws.

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**Puppies. **


	4. Corny

**You guys know me too well. **

**Maybe some chasing verse hiccstrid getting the need and doing the do in the cornmaze somewhere and ALMOST a getting caught? ((I work in one AND WE CATCH SO MANY PEOPLE GOING IN AT NIGHT YO DO IT)**

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"Hiccup," Astrid turns to her boyfriend in front of the corn maze ticket booth, giving him a hopeful look. "We don't have to do this," she holds his hands and swings them back and forth slightly. "Ruff gave me the dorm for the night, we could go back and watch a movie and _cuddle_—"

"Yeah, like we do every weekend," he rolls his eyes and grips one of her hands firmly, stepping up as the line moves forward. Everyone is teenagers this late at night and it makes Astrid feel remarkably old, even though only turning twenty one last month.

"Are you saying you're sick of my _cuddling_?" She scowls at him, refusing to soften at his grin.

"Not at all. But I can get your cuddling anytime, and the corn maze closes at nine."

"Cuddling closes at," she checks her watch, "seven thirty."

"What time is it now?"

"Seven thirty seven."

He ducks down and kisses her cheek, breath warm in the crisp fall air.

"Thank you for doing this, Astrid. It's my turn to _cuddle_ anyway, and I never close."

"Yeah?" She looks up at him and bites her lip and he grins. "Are you closed at seven forty?"

"Siesta," he squeezes her hand and steps up to the ticket booth, ordering two tickets to the main maze and tucking the small map into his back pocket.

Half an hour later they're lost. Hopelessly, absolutely lost. Hiccup doesn't seem to care, he's grinning in the dark and holding her hand, tugging her around random turns making banal comments about the bridges peeking up over the corn, lit up by bored looking security detail with big flashlights. They yell out occasionally, and teenage giggles in the corn are only making this worse.

Hiccup's hand is warm and rough in hers and he doesn't seem to care when he trips over shallow roots and mud puddles.

"Hiccup, let's check the map, I think we're pretty hopelessly lost," Astrid finally brings it up when they're in what looks like the far corner of the maze, the air quiet except for wind rasping through the corn and the occasional plodding of running kids' feet.

"That's the whole point—"

"If this is the right way to go, why isn't anyone else out here?" She whips the map out of her back pocket and holds it in a patch of clear moonlight, frowning at the hazy lines.

"Astrid—"

"If you know exactly where we are, why don't you find it?"

He sighs and steps around behind her, resting his hand on her shoulder and reaching one long arm over to point at the map. Specifically, the farthest out corner of the map.

"We're right here. See? Three right turns in that direction, dead end this direction…here let me prove it," he takes the map and tucks it away before grabbing her hand again and tugging her down the alleged dead end. He gestures to the wall of corn in front of them and grins. "See? Dead end. I knew exactly where we were."

"Then how do we get to the exit from here?" She takes the map back out of his pocket and squints at it in the dark, reaching for her phone to shed some light on the situation. He catches her wrist and she glares at him. "I'm just trying to figure out the exit."

"Not yet," he grabs the map away again, tucking it in her back pocket and cupping her butt, pulling her against him.

He kisses her and she sighs, wrapping her arms around his neck and thinking about her next move. She can drag him to the exit from here, she can get him into the car and back to her dorm and out of his pants. Her fingers tangle in her hair and she moans as he grabs her ass a little more firmly, hand sliding out of her pocket and up to her waist, slipping under her coat, impossibly warm through the thin fabric of her tee-shirt.

"Seriously, let's get out of here," she mumbles into his cheek as he kisses along her jaw, gripping either side of her waist.

"No." He noses her head to the side and starts kissing her neck, backing her up one stumbling step towards the corn, until the long, brown leaves are rasping against her hair.

"Come on, I want to go somewhere _private_."

"What's more private than this?" He pulls back to grin at her, stroking the curve of her hips and hooking his fingers through her belt loop to tug her against him.

"The farthest out corner of the corn maze—Oh my god, you were planning this, weren't you?"

His crimson blush tells her everything and she folds her hands against the back of his neck. "Why didn't you just tell me?—"

"Because I thought you'd laugh at me," he tries to sound stern, biting his lip.

"Why would I laugh at you?"

"Oh, hey Astrid. Can we go make out in the corn maze on Friday because I've wanted to ever since I first went when I was thirteen and Fishlegs and I caught some people—Exactly, you're laughing at me."

She claps a hand over her mouth and tries to stifle the snickering, shaking her head breathing deeply.

"Nope, nope, I'm not laughing at you." She shakes her head and wraps both arms around his neck again. He gives her a wry look and she snorts, "I'm going to laugh at you later. I thought we were here to fulfill your boyhood dream."

"Yeah?" He ducks down and kisses her again, nipping her lower lip and pulling back, bright eyed and hopeful. "Because if you don't—"

"Get on with it or I will start laughing at you."

"Right," and he dives back in, tugging him tight against her and smiling into her lips when she tangles her fingers in his hair and moans against his lips. Her hand slides down his back and slides into his back pocket, squeezing as her hips rock forward against his.

It feels good, too good and she forgets about the corn for a moment, wrapping her knee around his good leg and grinding against him. He gasps and grips her thigh, smoothing his hand up to her hip and grasping her waist under her shirt. The bare skin contact is too much and she snaps, yanking at his belt and fumbling over the buckle.

"Wait, no—"

"Nope, you can't kiss me like that and then turn me down. It doesn't work that way—"

"Wait as in wait, you first," he pops the button of her jeans and tugs down the zipper, pushing them over her hips.

"Hiccup—"

"There's no one back here," he comforts, snapping the side of her underwear gently against her skin. "And I dragged you out here with no explanation, it's only fair that you go first."

"Oh!" She grins and kisses him before shoving down on his shoulders. "Yeah just—just go before someone comes back here."

He grins before kissing her cheek, dropping to his knees and stabilizing himself on her hips before pressing a gentle kiss to the blonde curls peeking out of her displaced underwear. She moans as he pulls her pants down a couple more inches, reaching his hand between her barely spread thighs and teasing her clit. She groans and fists her hand in his hair, tugging him back towards her.

"This is surpassing the boyhood fantasy a little bit," he mutters against her thigh before kissing sideways, tongue flicking out to stroke her as his finger slides inside, curling carefully. She whines, knees trembling and he grips her hip with his free hand, sliding that finger in and out, his tongue flicking against her.

Something crackles too loudly behind them and she perks up, looking over her shoulder. He distracts her completely with a lick and her hands clamp down on his hair.

"D-do you hear that?"

"You're hearing things," the words vibrate against her and she moans, biting her lip and trying to ignore the mysterious crackle. A faint trickle of light catches a red streak in Hiccup's hair and she fumbles for her pants.

"No, someone has a flashlight—"

"Hold still," he swipes his tongue across her again, another finger slipping in alongside the first, pumping slowly, carefully. Her knees quake.

"Just—just hurry up."

"Already on it," he nods, shifting with a leafy crackle and licking her in earnest, fingers unrelenting and touching her in all the right spots. She muffles a groan with the back of her hand and he doubles his effort, sucking on her clit and yelping against her when she yanks on his head.

That's enough somehow and she stumbles while standing still, anchoring her hand on his shoulder as he grabs both of her hips, holding her up. He plants one last kiss against her and she smacks his shoulder feebly, nudging him away from her.

"Hello?" A voice calls from the main pathway, and the flashlight trickles through again. "Maze is closing in twenty minutes, I'm here to guide you to the exit."

"Fuck," Hiccup stands faster than Astrid knew he could, yanking at her pants and ignoring the way that her underwear crumple. She glares and shoves his hands away, fixing her pants herself and managing to button them just as a security guard walks around the corner into the dead end. Hiccup whorls around and throws his hands up, voice too loud, "Oh my god, you found us! I thought we'd be stranded here forever."

The guard looks between them, flashlight catching for a terrifying second on Hiccup's rumpled belt, "Right."

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	5. Phoning Around

**Could you maybe do some hiccstrid Skype/Phone sex type thing? Maybe while Astrid is away at school?**

**Yes. Yes I can. **

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It's far too late to be awake, much less out in the garage, and Hiccup groans when his phone rings, vibrating on the blue metal work table. He picks it up carefully with an oily hand and frowns when he sees Astrid's name.

What is she doing up? He answers too quickly, sure that she's going to need a ride or a rescue.

"Astrid? Are you ok?'

"Yes, I'm ok, why is that the first thing you ask?" She snaps at him, already irritable and he relaxes. "I'm fine, are you ok?"

"Why are you asking if I'm ok?" He laughs and sits back down, wiping grease on his jeans. "Why are you calling me at one in the morning?"

She fidgets, static briefly overtaking her end of the line and it strikes him that she's probably in _bed_, all curled up and sleepy. He smiles at the image, wishing he were there with her. Engineering school be damned, he should have at least looked at her school's program. Then he could be over at her dorm and they wouldn't be having this conversation about whether they're ok or not, they'd be doing something more fun.

"What are you wearing?"

"What?"

"What are you wearing?" She repeats the question with a bit of an edge, shuffling rustle falling silent.

"Why do you care what I'm wearing?"

"I'm just curious." There's something strange about her voice, huskier than normal in an almost familiar way and he tries to place it.

Could she be sick? He hopes not.

"The usual, jeans and a tee shirt," he answers her question, looking down at himself. "Filthy tee shirt."

"Filthy?" She hums quietly and he cocks his head. "What kind of filthy?" That rustling starts up again, oddly rhythmic.

"I'm out in the garage, my car wouldn't start this morning and my water pump is all—anyway, filthy with coolant and general engine grime." He laughs and wipes his hair away from his forehead. "I need a shower."

"Mmm, that's the image," she says, still husky, and the rustling speeds up. It's less rhythmic, her voice starts to make sense in a foggy far corner of his mind.

"Are you—"

"Hiccup!" She moans and his pants tighten at the sound. She's only half an hour away. Of course he can't drive, because his car is insisting on being useless, but he could take his dad's car.

"Did you just…get off?"

"I couldn't sleep."

"I don't understand," he rubs at the front of his pants, repositioning the stubborn activity that was pressing against his zipper.

"I couldn't sleep, so I was trying to…tire myself out," she laughs, yawning into the phone. "And then I couldn't get there, so I called you to help me out."

"And you couldn't clue me in on what you were doing?" He shifts in his seat, more peeved than he should be. "I would have talked about better things than my filthy shirt and my car."

"Really?"

"Well uh…yeah," he struggles to get comfortable, his mind running over the same fact again and again. Astrid just _pleasured_ herself to his voice and apparently the image of him in the shower, and now she's yawning again. "And maybe I would have gotten something out of it too."

"Yeah?"

"Wait, you—you sound like you _like_ that idea…" He grins at the thought, oddly embarrassed.

"I kind of like that idea," she yawns again and he smiles. "We can get on Skype next time."

"I should hang up now," he laughs, "or you're going to have to help me out."

"Mmm, and you still have to shower before bed." And she sounds so sleepy and sweet and he knows what she feels like pressed against him, around him, so hot and—

"Yes. Yes, I do, and it's already a late night so I'm going to hang up." He swallows hard and shakes his head. "Goodnight, I love you."

"Love you too."


	6. Like Dog, Like Son

**So you guys wanted more parenting? Here's more parenting. **

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Aside from that whole broken arm debacle her senior year of high school, Astrid always had an exemplary educational record. Straight A's, glowing teacher reports, she never had a detention. Ever.

And Neil takes after her, smart and scrappy, always kicking a soccer ball around the yard and playing fetch with Hiccup's father. He's got the blonde hair and the attitude and maybe she's reading too much into it, but she's always been—no, Neil has always been a _good_ boy. He picks up his toys, he doesn't punch people even when they really deserve it, he eats like a champ.

She glances again out of the window at the little blonde head bobbing across the lawn, followed by Toothless's gangly trot.

Maybe it's the dog? Sure, Neil has been spending more time with Toothless lately, Toothless has been so lonely since Spike…well, since Spike, and they were glad he had the company. Is it too much? Is there such a thing as too much time with a dog?

She leans over the kitchen counter and reads the note for the millionth time.

_Hi Mrs. Haddock, _

_Neil has had a few accidents on the playground lately and we're thinking that you might need to go over potty training with him again. The back fence is not a toilet! _

And a smiley face. There's a smiley face at the end of his note. Neil's teacher has the audacity to smile about him _peeing_ on the fence.

She looks out into the yard again, and the slow paced game of fetch and keep away going on between the gray faced wolf and her son. He looks so happy and she can't really bring herself to think there's something wrong with him. He's been potty trained for over a year, it has to be some other issue, he has to just be confused or—

"Hey Astrid, you guys are home early," Hiccup comes through the front door and walks into the kitchen, standing behind her and wrapping his arms around her waist. He rests his chin on her shoulder and frowns at the note on the counter. "What's this?"

"Neil got sent home with a note today," Astrid picks it up and turns in his arms, leaning back against the counter.

"So you didn't go to my dad's?"

"No, I didn't go to your dad's house. Neil got sent home with a _note_." He raises one hand to cup her face and strokes her cheek, brow furrowed.

"What did he do?"

"He…" she sighs and brushes the touch away, resting her hand against her forehead. "Just read it. I can't _look_ at it anymore."

"Ok," he takes it from her, rubbing his hand across her arm and reading the note. A frown pulls at the corner of his mouth and his eyes scan the paper again. He grins. "What? So he peed on the fence?"

"He didn't just pee on the fence, he peed on the fence when he wasn't supposed to and—"

"Like that?" He cuts her off and points at the glass patio door. Both Toothless and Neil are leaning against the far fence. Neil's pants are down around his ankles and he's mimicking the wolf, raising one leg and peeing in a wide arc into the middle of the yard. "Oh god, he's lifting his leg—"

"He's lifting his leg?" Astrid's mouth falls open, horrified and Hiccup starts laughing too loud, running his hand back through his hair.

"He's lifting his leg."

"Go stop him," Astrid thumps him on the shoulder but he's laughing too hard to notice. "Go stop him—"

"What is his school talking about? He's potty trained," Hiccup stands up straight and shakes his head, dodging a half-hearted punch to the arm. "He's going outside and everything."

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	7. The Real Thing

**Someone asked for a sex toy on the honeymoon gifted by Ruffnut. You all know me. I'm so flattered. **

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This is not how the honeymoon was going to go.

Astrid stares into her open suitcase, mouth flapping wordlessly at the long purple _object_ that she definitely didn't pack. Her hand feigns towards it with the intent of throwing it out of the window into the damn ocean, but Hiccup comes out of the bathroom behind her, click-thumping across the tile floor.

"That's not your swimsuit," he wraps his arms around her waist and starts kissing the side of her neck, hand sliding her shirt up her stomach and cupping her chest through her bra. "Unless you don't _want_ to go down to the beach just yet—what is _that_?" He freezes, hand stiff against her stomach as he tucks his chin into her shoulder, peering into her bag. She flips it shut and rocks her hips back against him, giving him a hopefully distracting grin over her shoulder.

"No, let's go down to the beach."

"What was that in your bag?" He reaches around her and flips her luggage back open. She yanks her swimsuit out from under the _thing_ and covers it with a handful of neatly folded clothes.

"My swimsuit," she turns in his arms and waves it at him. "It's really small, why don't you help me put it on?"

"It's a little too soon into our married lives for you to be hiding something, isn't it?" He grins and kisses her cheek, stepping around her entirely and opening the bag again, moving the stack of clothes.

"I'm not hiding it, per say I just—"

"Is this?" He picks it up, sliding it through his fingers and toggling the switch on the flat end. It buzzes to life and he turns it off, blushing. "Is this what I think it is?"

"If you think it's a…sexual aide," she grimaces at the wording and takes it back from him, walking towards the window and unfastening it, letting the sound of the ocean into their beachfront room. "That's what it is and I'm throwing it out, and I didn't mean to bring it—"

"Where did you get it?" He follows her over to the window and snatches it back, holding it behind his back when she reaches for it. She almost stomps on his foot and steals it back, but this is their honeymoon and his swim trunks are so deliciously tight and…

"Ruff gave it to me at my bachelorette party. I gave it back because I didn't want it, and apparently she snuck it into my luggage. I didn't know I had it and—"

"You didn't want it?" He quirks his eyebrow at her and brings it back around in front of him, toggling the switch at the end and gripping it as it comes to life in his hands.

"Turn it off!"

"Why did Ruff give it to you?" He turns it off and she crosses her arms, staring out the window at the beach they should be lounging on.

"I don't know, she said something about how men's libido _always_ goes down after marriage and I'd need it and—"

"So you're going to throw it out into the ocean?" He looks at it again and she can almost see him _comparing_.

"I don't need it."

"You aren't even _curious_?"

"What?" She cocks her head and bites her lip, "are—are you curious?"

"I mean…honeymoons are supposed to be about crazy sex…" he looks at her almost hopefully, flicking the thing on and off, on and off.

"We could…I guess we could try it. If you want to try it."

He raises an eyebrow at her and she continues, stumbling uncharacteristically over the words, "I'm sort of curious too. I mean—I wasn't going to use it because I have you and I don't need it but…but if you were _here_."

"Yeah?" He grins and leans in to kiss her, still smelling like yesterday's wedding cologne. When she weaves her hands into his hair and kisses him back, yelping against his lips when he turns the thing on behind her, pressing it into her lower back.

He laughs.

"What are you doing?"

"I don't know," he runs it under her shirt, along her spine. "Does it feel good?"

"Not really, it's shaking all of my bones together." She wrinkles her nose and bats his hand away, pulling her shirt over her head. He grins and tugs at the waistband of her shorts, loose and comfortable for the plane and she pushes them down, standing in front of him in her underwear. "I don't—how do we even _try_ this?"

"If it's shape means anything, I think I know what to do with it," he grins and waves the thing at her, and she wrinkles her nose. "If you don't want to—"

"It just seems so cold and _inhuman_."

"I'll warm it up," he offers, wrapping both hands around it and smiling at her. "Unless you really don't want to—"

"No, that's not…I—give it to me," she grabs it back from him and sits down on the edge of the bed, wiggling out of her underwear and laying back beside the still open suitcase. "Maybe if I try it, it'll feel less weird."

"And I get to watch?" He laughs before kissing her again, wrapping his hand around her shoulder and fiddling with the strap of her bra.

"You're sort of…into this, aren't you?" She frowns as he starts kissing her neck, unhooking her bra almost absently and pulling it down her arms. He flings it behind him and pushes her back onto the bed, crawling between her knees and kissing her again, deep and needy and convincing.

"I'm curious," he mutters against her lips, running his hand down her arm and dragging the _thing_ down her stomach, flicking it on. It jumps to life low on her belly and she swallows, breaking the kiss and squinting her eyes shut.

She slides it between her legs, shifting slightly and searching for—oh!

Oh.

She whimpers in spite of herself, bucking against the stiff plastic and pulling it away from her skin like it's on fire.

"Was that a good sound?" Hiccup cocks his head at her, hand lazily tugging on the peak of her breast.

"I—it's just _intense_."

"Good intense?" He kisses the side of her neck again and she shrugs, falsely nonchalant as she braces her feet against the mattress and tries again. She twitches underneath him, arching involuntarily into the sensation and he cocks his head, "what does it feel like?"

"I don't know," she laughs, pulling away from the _thing_ and pressing it gently against the bulge tightening his swim trunks. "What does it feel like?"

"That's…I don't get the appeal, but you seem to like it," his hand wraps around hers and tugs gently on the plastic. "May I?"

"If you really want to," she jolts when he presses it back against her with a little more finesse than she had, a little more purpose. She bites her lip and nods, wrapping her arms around his shoulders.

"Can I try something?" He has that face, that focused, curious face that always ends in _good_ things and she nods again. "Are you sure? Because it's not—"

"Just do it, this is getting a little too…something. Too something."

He pulls the hard plastic away from her and she sighs, almost relieved as he slides onto the floor, kneeling at the edge of the bed and flicking the thing off. His finger slips inside of her, warm and nimble and familiar and she arches into it, whimpering as he rubs her clit with his thumb. It's too sensitive, too immediate and she wraps her heels around his shoulders, holding him where he is.

He pulls his finger out and the rounded end of the thing presses against her, into her, oddly cool and hard and unmistakably foreign. She shifts around it and he kisses a freckle on her thigh, flicking the switch.

"Ooh," she jerks, heels locking down on his shoulders as he slowly wiggles the thing inside of her, moving it carefully, pressing it almost artfully against that deep sensitivity.

"Feel good?" He doesn't wait for an answer, leaning down to press his lips to her clit, sucking gently and starting to move the thing in and out with some sort of rhythm. Her hands fist in the sheets and she bucks against his touch, mouth falling slack.

It's too strange and too acute and too much and she kicks feebly at his shoulder, toes curling against the sharp line of his shoulder blade. He pulls back and clicks it off, looking up at her with worried eyebrows low over nearly black eyes.

"Come up here," she sits up halfway and waves him up. "I want the real thing."

He grins and stands, sliding his swim trunks down with a little bit of difficulty. She should have reminded him to buy new ones, but she's glad she didn't. There's absolutely nothing wrong with ten days of staring at his ass in that tight polyester.

"The real thing, huh?" He's too cocky, kneeling over her and lining himself up, lifting one of her legs to hook over his shoulder.

"Stop bragging," she groans, grabbing his ass and yanking him against her, into her. He doesn't make her wait anymore, sinking into her with a moan as he buries his face in her hair.

He starts to move and she was right. She doesn't need the toy, the real thing is better anyway.

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	8. News

**Someone asked about pregnant Astrid and Stoick finding out. I don't know. This admittedly got away from me. **

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Astrid holds her stomach in the car, even though it's still flat and firm and she feels ridiculous. This is ridiculous.

"Why can't we just e-mail your dad, again?" She asks, tapping her foot on the floorboard and staring at Hiccup, who's smiling that same derpy smile he's had for the last two months.

"This is the kind of news that you relay in person, Astrid." He reaches over and grips her knee, rubbing his thumb fondly against her thigh. "I don't even—you're pregnant. You're pregnant."

"Repeating it doesn't make it any more true."

"Really? Because I thought that if I said it enough, it might turn into two—"

"Ugh, that's not even funny, Hiccup," she sighs and rests her head against the window with a yawn. "I just want to sleep, why are we even doing this? Your dad would be fine with an e-mail."

"Fine, maybe I'm not fine with an e-mail. I want to tell him. He's going to be so excited, he's been nagging me about grandkids since we got married. Honestly, even a few years before," he shakes his head, but that smile doesn't fade.

"Then why couldn't you go tell him while I took a nap?" She groans and shifts around the seatbelt. Maybe she's crazy, or maybe it's getting tighter. Dear God, it better not be getting tighter.

"Because you're sort of the integral part of this whole reveal," he removes his hand regretfully from her thigh and grips the steering wheel again, turning onto that familiar foothill road that she ran a million times back in the day. "He needs to see your—"

"Extra ten pounds?" Astrid snorts, looking down at her tighter jeans. "You need to show him that I'm getting _fat_ to prove it?"

"No, your _glow_, I need to—thank you for doing this with me," he changes his tone at her glare and she softens slightly, yawning again and slumping into the seat.

"That's better." She smiles at him, "my glow, huh?"

"Well, you are sort of glowy," he rubs the back of his neck with a nervous hand and pulls into the driveway on autopilot, barely watching the road ahead of him. "I'm just—"

"You're excited," she rubs her stomach again, trying to tell if it's _bigger_. It's firmer, in a strange dense way, but no bigger, not yet. "I'm sure I'll be excited too, once I get some sleep."

They coast to a stop in front of the mansion and Hiccup drums his hands on the steering wheel, "you really need to sleep, don't you?"

"No, we're already here—"

"My dad will be fine with an e-mail, you're probably right," he throws the car into reverse and turns around. "Let's go home and get some sleep."

"But we're already here?" She sits up straight and looks out of the window. "Your dad is already on his way out—"

"Shit," Hiccup swears and looks perplexed for a second before rolling down the window and leaning his head out. "Astrid's pregnant. But apparently she needs to go home and sleep, so we'll see you later!"

His tires spray gravel onto the lawn as he throws the car into gear and squeals a u-turn back onto the road.

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	9. Midnight Premier

**Ok, this is a follow up to Phoning around, as requested. **

**1. Could you write a drabble where hiccup talks dirty on the phone to astrid and she gets off from it? 2. Can you continue phoning around where they get off to each other on skype! You just capture their characters so perfectly oh mah gawd:33 please bruh, I need hiccstrid Skype sex!**

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Astrid shifts against the pillows of her bed, cross-legged and more nervous than she should be as Hiccup adjusts his screen, all anxious smiles and pale freckled shoulders. She's surprised his shirt is off, but it's not something she's going to complain about.

"Hey," he starts, scratching his nose and glancing obviously towards how own image on the corner of his screen. "This is already distracting. Is there a way to turn off looking at myself?"

"How about you just don't look at yourself," she laughs, reaching for the hem of her tank top. "Would it help if I took my shirt off too?"

"Uh yeah," he nods, licking his lips. "That would definitely help."

"Yeah?" She covers her own blush by pulling her tank top over her head and dropping it on the floor. Her skin breaks out in goose bumps in the cool air and Hiccup grins, bright red and adorable. "You're cute."

"Astrid," he frowns, "calling me cute isn't really going to set the mood."

"Oh, sorry, you're amazingly manly."

"Thanks for your sincerity," he rolls his eyes and settles a little further from the screen, giving her a glimpse of the top half of his chest. "I wish that I was there," his lip twitches and she wants to kiss the expression off of his face, "you look cold."

"Very funny," she glances down at her bare chest and resists the sudden urge to cross her arms. "So…you want to warm me up?"

"Warm you…uh, do you really want me to say this out loud?" He rubs the back of his neck, red-faced and adorable.

"How else are you going to do it?"

"Normally I just _show_ you."

"That works too," she shrugs and gives him a lecherous grin. "You could show me your reaction to all of this."

"You just gestured to your whole…this is—I wish I were there," he sighs and rubs his hands over his eyes. "I wish I could just slide under the covers and put my mouth to better use instead of sitting her chatting about it." It's an outburst, utter frustration, but it tickles something deep and warm in her chest and she nods.

"Go on," she encourages him, sliding her hand under the covers and finding the crux of her legs with careful fingers. His eyes widen and he exhales into the speaker, a burst of static.

"You're just going to go for it there?"

"Isn't that sort of the point?" Her breath hitches around a small moan and he licks his lips, laptop shifting as his own hand slips underneath it and starts moving slowly. "So what were you going to do with your mouth?"

"Uh, kiss you?" He laughs and she rolls her eyes.

"Where? How? You've got to give me something to work with, Hiccup."

"Oh, so you're just going to let me do all the work?" He smiles for the first time since this has started and she lets out another quiet moan, rocking a little into her hand. "What are you doing?"

"What do you think I'm doing?" She bites her lip, "I'm thinking about your mouth." She moans again, watching his cheeks flush and jaw flex.

"So you _like_ the idea of me sliding down between your legs and licking—oh shit. Sorry." He flushes and she sees both of his hands scrabbling over the keyboard like he can delete the sentence.

She pauses.

His arm jerks upwards, like he's planning on slamming his screen shut.

"No. Don't apologize," she shrugs, faking nonchalance. "I liked it."

"Yeah?" And it's the same face he has when she gives him any sort of approval. It's the bright half smile when she thanks him for changing her oil or notices he got a haircut. Or when they're naked and sweating, tangled in his sheets and she says _again_.

"So if there's anything else you wanted to say, this would be the time to say it."

"I think…I think when you come home I'm going to meet you in the garage. I don't think I can wait for you to come inside," he starts, voice wavering slightly, and she can see his hand pumping under the covers in the corner of the screen.

"Maybe you should just work on your car that day. Get nice and _greasy_ before I even get there," she almost laughs, because it's easier to brush this off than legitimately request it.

"Oh? So this is a _filthy_ thing?" He grins, and his enjoyment is hotter than the nervous bumbling from a minute ago. "You want me to be all covered in grease and soot, smelling like coolant," he narrows his eyes when her hand speeds up, pressing harder, winding towards something. "You actually want that—I—I'm going to _do_ you—"

"_Do_ me?" She pauses and cocks her head. "You're going to _do_ me?"

"What do you want me to call it?" He wipes his hair away from his forehead and she can see it darkening with sweat at the root. She can taste it on the back of her tongue, imagining him slumping onto her, damp and grinning. "It's not exactly erm…making _love_ on a greasy table in the garage."

"So you sort of want to _fuck_ me," she fills it in for him, fingers moving against herself again at his adorably slack jawed expression. Of course they've both said it as an expletive, sometimes it just slips out, but it's never been an action. A desire.

"I guess I want to _fuck_ you on the greasy work table in my garage," he exhales a shuddering breath and Astrid nods him on, biting her lip and rubbing a little harder, a little faster. "Next to my uh, carburetor or something."

"I don't care about your carburetor," she chews on her lower lip and watches him, the slow, rhythmic pumping of his hand. She wishes he'd take the sheet off and let her see, but that feels like it's going too far. Next time.

She thinks there's going to be a next time.

"I want your legs around my waist while I…while I _fuck_ you," there it is again, scalding and scintillating, and the warmth in her belly mounts in earnest, pooling towards that edge. "I want to hear you moan and call out my name and—"

"Hiccup!" She finishes too loudly, hips bucking her laptop to the side as it's enough and too much all at once and her thighs clamp around her hand.

He grunts, and it brings her back to the moment, the cold lonely chill of her twin sized dorm bed. She shifts the laptop back in front of her and takes in the pink cheeks, the heaving chest. He opens his eyes with a near wince, barely grinning at her, "was that…"

"That was—maybe you shouldn't have done that," she smiles at him, awkwardly wiping her hand in the blanket.

"What?"

"Now you're going to have to talk like that every time."

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	10. Maid of Horror

**Someone asked for the bachelorette party. Ruff had something to say about it. **

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Honestly? It's been sort of a relief to have Ruff's unborn child in attendance to all the wedding planning. It meant more herbal tea and less hard liquor, more puking and fewer bawdy comments about Hiccup's ass in tuxedo pants. And it meant skipping out on a bunch of those wedding related things that make Astrid generally nervous.

No champagne filled wedding shower, because that would be rude to the maid of honor, of course.

The perfect excuse.

So when Astrid ends up bride-napped in the back of a taxi heading towards downtown with Ruff cackling beside her and snapping surely unflattering pictures, it's all a bit of a shock.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Astrid smacks the camera out of her friend's hand and the taxi driver has the audacity to laugh.

"See Jorge? I told you she's a feisty one," Ruffnut pulls her phone out of her pocket and takes another picture. "Keep driving and that tip will be as big as I promised."

"Seriously," Astrid slaps her friend—ex-friend, maybe—on the arm. "What do you think you're doing? I'm supposed to be meeting with Hiccup's grandparents in an hour!"

"Oh come on, you have the rest of your life—or the rest of their lives," she chuckles at her own tasteless joke, "to spend with Hiccup's grandparents. This is your last night to go and get drunk with me and not answer to anyone."

"Oh, like I'm going to start answering to Hiccup because of a ring?" Her engagement ring flashes out of the corner of her eye and she stuffs her hand in her pocket. "You're delusional. I think the baby's eating your brain."

"Har har, very funny," Ruff pats her stomach at its mention, "and what kind of maid of horror would I be if I didn't give you a bachelorette party?"

"Did you just call yourself a maid of _horror_?" Astrid rolls her eyes and sits back, making a vow to run for it as soon as the cab stops. Ruff is waddling now anyway. "And you can't even drink. Can't we just forget this?"

"I haven't gotten you drink _once_ since you got engaged, Astrid," Ruff nearly pleads. "You made me help you with seating arrangements while you were still sober. I'm sitting next to _Fish_ this weekend—"

"He's your husband! Of course you're sitting next to him."

"And it's all so logical and it's killing me. Let me get wasted vicariously, be a friend."

"You didn't even give me warning, you tackled me into a taxi," Astrid complains, crossing her arms and staring out the window. They're headed downtown, that much is obvious.

"All the other girls are already there—"

"You invited people?" Astrid curls her lip. "You are a maid of horror."

"You're going to have a bachelorette party," Ruff insists, pounding her hand on the seat between them. "And Hiccup is being nabbed by Fishlegs and Thugs right now—"

"Who is meeting his grandparents?—"

"Can you stop being so damn responsible for two seconds? If this is how you're marriage is going to be, you're going to be miserably divorced in a year. Have some fun, eat some penis shaped gummies," Ruffnut throws a small, cellophane package against the side of Astrid's head. "Get drunk with me and you'll have all sorts of new stories to tell Hiccup tomorrow. When you wake up hungover together and argue over who has to get up and close the blinds."

"Did you seriously buy penis shaped candy?" Astrid picks up the package and looks at the phallic treats through a small, clear window. She sighs and holds her hand out for her phone, which was so neatly stolen during her abduction. "At least let me call Hiccup's grandparents and let them know we're not coming."

"What's your excuse?"

"My pregnant-ass maid of horror needs my help with her swollen feet, give me the phone."

Ruffnut hands it over with a grin, "there's my girl."


	11. HandlingIt

**Some genius anon had this adorable prompt: a little #tbt chasings drabble to that astrid hid hiccups crutches? lovelove.**

**And I had to do it immediately while it's still Thursday. **

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"Hey Astrid?" Hiccup sits up on the couch, looking around the room and under the blanket. "Do you have any idea where I put my crutches?"

"Hmm?" She pulls her headphones out of her ears and looks up at him from her homework, and he can't help but smile. He wonders if it's ever going to stop being astounding that Astrid is sitting in his kitchen with Toothless curled happily around her feet. Somehow he doubts it.

"Have you seen my crutches anywhere?"

"You're wearing your new leg, why do you need your crutches?"

"Because—"

"Because _what_?" She cuts him off, raising one blonde eyebrow and drumming her fingers on the table. "You walked this morning, why do you need crutches now?"

He shrugs, unsure of whether to feel picked on or cared for as she stares him down, jaw set like a challenge.

"Because I'm going upstairs."

"There's a railing."

"I could have sworn I left them right here…" he fumbles around the edge of the couch, like they could have fallen behind the coffee table. She snorts and he looks up at her, narrowing his eyes. "Did—did you hide my crutches?"

She shrugs and it hits him, the strange way she was reaching above his head when she came over and kissed him a while before. She must have been pushing them out of sight. He rolls his eyes and cradles his head in his hands, palms catching on two day stubble. "That's so incredibly _helpful_, Astrid."

"I know."

"I was being sarcastic."

"I know," she repeats, drumming her fingers one last time before stopping. "You have to start walking on your leg at some point."

"Now it's my turn to say 'I know'."

"Hiccup," she sighs, and somewhere in the back of his mind, it's still sort of beautiful to have her _frustrated_ with him. It means she cares in some deep, loud way that he's still not used to, that he never thought he'd get. "I'll tell you what, if you find them, you can have them—Don't look at me like that, they aren't upstairs or anything."

"Astrid," his voice falls a little desperate and something unintentionally kind slips into her face. He swallows and shifts on his good foot, so carefully touching the metal base of his prosthetic to the carpet. "Can you come help me up, at least?"

"Of course," she smiles and jumps up, murmuring an apology to Toothless when her feet bump against his stomach and he grumbles. She nearly jogs across the room and offers him her hands, smiling in a way that makes him dizzy enough to want to stay seated when he grabs on and she pulls him to his foot. Feet.

There are two again, even if they don't quite match.

His hands slide up the arms of her sweatshirt to her shoulders, gripping a little too hard as he steadies himself, staring down at mismatched toes and the top of her blonde head. He ducks down and kisses her crown and she smiles up at him, _adorably_ confused.

God, she'd hate it if he said that out loud.

"What?"

"What was that for?" She grasps the sides of his waist, hands warm and sure through his tee-shirt and he shrugs.

"I just felt like it…is that ok?"

"Yeah," she nods, popping onto her tiptoes to kiss his cheek before giving him a stern look. "I'm going to let go now, can you handle it?"

He holds on a second longer, memorizing the bird-boned curve of her shoulders under his palms, the smell of her shampoo.

"Yeah, I think I can handle it."

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	12. The Great Pencil Borrowing Event

**No real prompt for this one, aside from a conversation I had with one of you about a drabble series quite a while ago (I can't remember who and I'm sorry). But this is how Astrid got her hands on that pencil of Hiccup's, before the chasing timeline. **

**As an homage to these characters' early, damaged incarnations. **

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Hiccup didn't sleep well the night before. No matter how many times his father insisted those barks were coyotes, they sounded like something bigger, they sounded like _wolves_. He doesn't like wolves, his father doesn't like wolves, it must be all that cattle rancher DNA going back to the time when massive Haddock men must have been wrangling cows with their bare hands.

Again. He didn't sleep enough. He feels even less focused than normal as he sits in his first class of the day, staring at the scribbles on the board with half of his attention, between his eyes flicking to the back of the blonde head one seat in front of him and one to the right. Astrid Hofferson is always distracting, even on his best rested day, but today every glint of her impossibly _bouncy_ golden hair seems to catch all of his attention.

She's digging through her backpack, muttering to the girl next to her who shrugs and pauses chewing on her pencil's eraser for a second to whisper something back. Astrid huffs and turns back to her bag, tugging the sleeves of her Berk High sweatshirt all the way down over narrow wrists and sits back in her chair, crossing her arms and glancing around the room.

Sometimes he's not sure whether he should _try_ not to stare at her or not. It seems like it doesn't matter, most of the time. She doesn't notice him anyway, she's never even looked his direction—

She turns in her seat and stares right at him, those brilliant blue eyes honed on his, famously precise.

"Do you have a pencil I could borrow?"

"What?" He blinks slowly, sure that he's hallucinating.

"Can I borrow a pencil?"

"Uh…yeah, of course," he laughs and reaches for his bag before holding out the one already in his hand. Green, his favorite. His _lucky_ pencil.

Even luckier now.

"Thanks," she takes it, stretching back towards him and taking it, fingertips barely ghosting across his. His eyes widen at the shock, like she's been scuffing wool socks on the carpet, but she jerks back too quickly, tugging her sleeve back down her arm and scowling at him.

"Yeah. N-no problem." But she's already facing the front of the room again, writing furiously to catch up with half-covered knuckles.


	13. Future Baller

**kyomosaki said: **

**Very pregnant Astrid and Hiccup shopping for baby clothes?**

00000

"No, nope. You're not getting that one," Hiccup shakes his head, holding the blue onesie by its tiny hanger. "He's going to be a baby, you can't already choose his future sports career."

"Hiccup, it's a onesie with a soccer ball on it. I'm not deciding his future." Astrid snatches it back from him and tosses it in her shopping cart, gripping the handle harder and leaning against it, shifting between two aching, swollen feet.

"Maybe we should just go," Hiccup walks up behind her and rests his hand on her waist. Or on the stiff drum where her waist used to be. "You're supposed to be on bed rest."

"God, I'm dying of boredom in that house. I needed to get out," she shakes her head and starts walking—waddling—forward again. "How many bottles do we have? How many bottles do we _need_. Ruff said that she never had enough bottles, but her dishwasher is bigger than ours…mmm," she trails off as he starts rubbing her back, between her shoulders.

"Why don't we go for a drive or something? Something where you don't have to walk."

"I can _walk_, Hiccup. I just can't work. Or run. Or see my feet." She starts in a huff and simmers down slowly, stopping in the middle of the pastel aisle, surrounded by blankets and bottle warmers. "I don't _want_ to sit down."

"You know what?" He rests his chin on the top of her head and wraps his arms around her, warm through the stretched tight fabric of her shirt. "For all this hell the kid is putting you through, maybe you deserve to choose his future sport. Are you sure about soccer? Because there was a green one with a football on it, and I know how you and my dad like to gang up on me."


	14. Stasis

**Big old warning. This is as close as I will come to writing a chasing wedding. I don't want to write it, I don't really see the fascination, but that's just me. Some other wonderful wedding suggestions might get worked into other scenes, but this is it for wedding day stuff. **

00000

Astrid Hofferson does not run away from things. But she can't help but stare at the back door of the church, rocking between her feet and rustling the satin skirt of her ridiculous white dress in an anxious rhythm. In an hour, she's not going to be Astrid _Hofferson_ anymore.

And it's just a name, and this is stupid, but she can't help but envision what her drivers' license is going to look like with the new name. What everything will look like with the new name. What Hiccup will look like when they share a last name, waking up together every morning and getting gray hair.

"Are you about ready, Astrid?" It's Hiccup's father in the doorway, impossibly larger than normal in a crisp gray suit. He trimmed his beard for the occasion and she's suddenly hyperaware that she hasn't seen Hiccup today.

Stupid tradition, bride not seeing the groom on the morning of the wedding. She bets he smells like aftershave and that he attempted to comb his hair.

She's suddenly itching to get this over with. Get that ring on her finger and get on with the rest of her life.

"Yeah, let's go," she nods, almost brusquely offering her elbow. He takes it and she chews on the inside of her cheek, lips sticking together with unfamiliar gloss. "Is…is there anything I should know?"

"Everything is going according to plan," he comforts her, and she's glad she trusted him with the logistics.

"No, about marriage. Is there anything I should know about getting married?" She doesn't wait for him to answer, "is anything going to change?"

"Do you want anything to change?"

"No, I don't." She shakes her head, deeply nestled hair pin digging at her scalp. "I'd like to have less wedding planning but—but I like the way that things are."

"Then my advice is to enjoy the next few months." He smiles at her, "before my grandchildren come along and take up more time than the wedding planning."

"A few months, huh? I'll let Hiccup know we have a deadline," she laughs shakily and pushes her hair behind her ear, ignoring hairspray crispiness.

"You're going to be fine."

"I know we will," she nods, and he opens the door to the aisle.


	15. Action

**Someone wanted them filming themselves. It didn't go as planned. **

00000

"What are we doing?" Hiccup asks, staring down at the camera in his hands and his own skinny, pale chest.

"You're about to go away on a business trip for a month, Hiccup, you're leaving me with something to bridge the gap," Astrid rolls her eyes. Normally, she'd be utterly irresistible, naked and sprawled loosely across the bed. She's toying with the corner of the comforter, brushing it across her stomach and he lets his eyes linger for a second, tracing the lean lines of her thighs. "See? The camera doesn't really seem to slow you down," she reaches out and grabs his hardening length and he jolts.

"It's not on yet."

"Neither am I," her grin is completely distracting and he watches her hand glide down her stomach and find the thatch of trimmed curls between her legs.

In that moment, he gets the appeal of watching.

"I don't get your fascination of having a video of my skinny ass." His voice is lower, husky, and he clears his throat.

"I like your skinny ass. I like it a lot."

"Enough to have it on video? A video that people can find and—the camera adds ten pounds." He gives the feeble excuse with a shrug, licking his lips as she spreads her legs slightly and _stretches_ her arms above her head.

"Shouldn't you be happy about that?"

"How about…" he sighs before setting the camera down. "What if I do two weeks of work now and _three_ weeks of work then I get back? Not that it's _work_, persay, it's just—"

"You don't want to do this," she slumps against the bed, her arm over her eyes. "It's fine. I just thought it'd be, I don't know, fun?"

"We can still have fun, I'm not cutting you off from the fun." He crawls over her on the bed, flinching when the metal edge of his prosthetic rasps at the sheets.

She pauses for a moment before reaching up and wrapping her arms around his neck, fingers tangling habitually in the too long hair at his nape, "so…you'll make _three_ weeks to me when you get back? That's like…forty times, or something."

"Dammit," he ducks down and kisses the side of her neck, nibbling on her earlobe. "I'm missing out on the busiest three weeks of the year."

"Shut up, Hiccup." Her leg hooks around his hips and he has nothing else to say.


End file.
